Archive for Wednesday WiPs
Wednesday Work In Progress…
I’m going to post something from the secret project I’ve been working on. I’ve been doing the story in parts. This is the beginning of Part One, and I’ll be finishing up Part Three today. Then I’ll have two more parts to do. This is one of the stories that I have a deadline for, which is today for the first three parts. I got a little over 8k done last night on Part Three, so I have another 2-4k to do today, then fill out the blurb and cover forms for them. As soon as I know when it’ll be out, I’ll let you know. Hopefully sooner rather than later because I really like this story.
If you can find it, go and listen to the song, “Riding with Private Malone” by David Ball. The first part of the story is loosely based on this song. đ I was inspired by it, but put my own twist on it…like I did with “Greyhound Bound for Nowhere” by Miranda Lambert for Nowhere Diner: Finding Love. I hope you find this snippet interesting enough to pick it up when it comes out. đ
It’s titled For Every Dream that Shattered.
For Every Dream that Shattered: Part One
Excerpt:
Holy Shit!
Logan stared at the car in front of him, then dropped his gaze to read the ad again.
â1967 Chevrolet. Good condition. Needs some repairs. Two thousand dollars or best offer.â
Heâd called the number, and the man who answered agreed to have Logan come over to look at the vehicle whenever he liked.
Since heâd separated from the army, Logan had time on his hands. The economy might have been looking up, but it still had been near impossible to find steady work. Heâd finally got a job working night security at a construction site earlier that week, but he needed his own car instead of borrowing his sisterâs mini-van all the time.
When Logan saw the ad in the newspaper, he considered it a good sign. Maybe things were starting to look up for him. He studied the Chevy for a moment, then turned to face the man selling it.
âYou have to know what you have here,â he said as he motioned to the car.
The elderly gentleman nodded. âI know exactly what it is and how much itâs worth.â
âThen why the hell are you selling it for two thousand dollars?â
After staring at him for a minute, the seller seemed to make a decision. âSon, would you like some coffee?â
Logan blinked at the sudden change of subject, but he nodded. âCertainly, sir.â
âPlease call me Bert. Youâre a military man, arenât you?â
âYes, sir.â
Bert gestured for Logan to follow him. After carefully covering the car again, Logan caught up with Bert as the man made his way tentatively over the uneven ground. He considered offering Bert his arm to hold since heâd feel terrible if the man fell.
Yet something in Bertâs carriage or tilt of his head told Logan that Bert would refuse any suggestion of help. He seemed proud, and Logan wouldnât take away his dignity, though he did stay close just in case.
âWhat branch did you serve in,â Bert asked as he weaved his way up the steps leading to the farmhouseâs back door.
âArmy. I served in the First Air Cavalry for twenty years. Just retired last yearâ
Logan got to the door before Bert did, then opened it. Bert eyed him for a moment like he knew what Logan was doing, but he must have decided not to argue about it.
Bert didnât pick up the conversation again until they were both seated at a wooden table with matching chairs. The amount of scratches and scarring that marred the top of the table spoke of its age.
âMy great-great-great-grandfather made this for his new bride as a wedding present.â Bert ran his fingers over the surface like he was reading the memories embedded in the wood.
âItâs a nice table. Very solid.â
One of Loganâs hobbies was woodworking, and he knew quality workmanship when he saw it. Bertâs grandfather had a good eye and steady hand.
âThank you.â Bert took a sip of the coffee heâd poured into mugs for them.
âBert, I have to ask again. If you know what kind of car that is and how much itâs worth, why are you selling it for mere chump change? Especially considering how much you could actually get for it.â Logan held his mug tight between his fingers. As much as he wanted the car, he couldnât justify paying so little for it.
âHereâs the thing, young man. That carâs been in my family for forty-six years, and only one person ever drove it.â Bert looked into his coffee and Logan wondered what Bert really saw in the dark liquid.
âHow many miles are on it?â
âAbout a hundred. Kenny got drafted about a week after he bought it. Only had enough time to go on one short road trip before he needed to report to Fort Sill for boot camp.â
Logan frowned. âKenny?â
âYes. He was my youngest brother, and if everything had gone to plan, he wouldâve outlived me. But war tends to take the young, and leave the old to mourn.â
Wednesday Work in Progress…
I thought I’d share with you a snippet of a story I started a while ago. I’m not sure what the title will be, but it’s a kind of twist on the fairy tale, Beauty and the Beast. It’s set in a world where beauty and being beautiful is seen as evil, and being plain or average was seen as a great advantage. đ
I hope you enjoy it.
Untited copyrighted c. 2013. T.A. Chase
Hidden behind a very large oak, Calest watched the young man lead the girl away from the woods. He longed to call out and say good-bye, but he knew he couldnât do that. Too many minutes of listening to his motherâs warning trained him to obey her wishes.
You must never let the villagers know you exist. If they find out about you, they will kill you. They think you are a monster.
Calest remembered asking his mother if he really was a monster. Sheâd draw him onto her lap, and cradled his face in her hands. Tears had welled in her eyes as she told him he was the most beautiful boy in the whole world, and he shouldnât listen to ignorant people who believed in fairy tales.
He still wasnât sure what she meant by that, but Calest accepted his motherâs words as the truth. He was beautiful, yet the villagers would fear him as a monster. So he watched whenever one of them came into the forest. He never approached them, shadowing their steps from one end of the woods to the other.
But it was the young man walking away from him that had intrigued him from the first moment heâd laid eyes on him. Calest didnât know why the millwrightâs son fascinated him so much.
Heâd managed to follow Sean home one night as the man left the woods. Sneaking his way through the village, heâd discovered the young manâs name and what his father did. Calest had peered into the window of Seanâs house, watching as he cooked an evening meal.
A couple strolling through the village had scared him and heâd scurried back to his home. Heâd never gotten the courage up to go out into the village again, and then winter arrived, trapping him in his cabin deep in the middle of the forest.
During the long harsh cold, Calest had dreamt and thought about the millwrightâs son. He imagined what it would feel like to touch the manâs hair and skin. He didnât understand the feelings and urges he had, since heâd never felt them before for anyone. Of course, it wasnât like he ran across a lot of people in his woods. Most of them would have run away from him the moment he appeared.
Calest couldnât even ask his mother. Sheâd passed away four years ago during another particularly rough winter. Heâd been alone since then, wandering around the forest like a ghost, always yearning for more than what he had, but knowing he wouldnât be able to have it.
When he saw Sean earlier that morning, heâd been thrilled to have the man back in his woods. Heâd been tempted to approach Sean and speak to him, but he hesitated, unsure of how Sean would react to his presence, so he hung back.
Yet when he saw Sean get trapped in the scent of the Rapture flower, Calest had broken his promise to his mother about never interacting with the villagers. He got Sean away from the plant, but he knew the effects of the pollen would last for several hours.
Calest had approached the donkey with trepidation. Heâd never dealt with a creature like that, but the animal didnât seem bothered by him. It really acted like it was worried about Sean, nuzzling the manâs hair and huffing excitedly. Calest knew Sean had come to gather wood, and he didnât want him to get in trouble. So he carried Sean to the edge of the forest, settling him down under a large oak.
After that, he turned to the donkey, and politely gestured for the creature to follow him. It seemed reluctant to go at first, but Calest persisted and finally it accompanied him to where there were several dead falls. It took most of the day, but Calest managed to fill the cart with all the wood it could hold.
When he finished, he returned to Sean, and moved him out away from the trees, where someone would find him. He tied the donkey to an oak nearby, making sure he could graze and get water from the bucket he found in the cart. Calest had filled it on their way back from the clearing.
Then he slipped away, watching from a far to make sure nothing happened to Sean until someone found him. When the rather unattractive female grabbed Sean and shook him, a strange emotion welled up in Calest. He didnât like the idea of anyone else touching Sean. Why would he feel like that when he had no claim to the man? They hadnât even spoken, and Sean didnât know he even existed.
Once Sean and the woman were out of his sight, Calest turned to stroll back to where his cabin nestled, stopping to dig up the Rapture flower on the way. He didnât want anyone else getting caught by its hypnotic pollen.
How had the plant gotten to that part of the forest? Usually they grew in the northern reaches of the woods. Maybe because of the rather cold weather theyâd been having up until now, the flower had decided to expand its growing area.
He wrapped the roots in his handkerchief, and continued on his way to his cabin. Behind the building, he planted the flower in his garden. Standing back, he studied the odd collection of plants growing in his back yard.
His home was in one of the few clearings found in the very center of the forest. Travelers had never discovered it, because none had ever strayed from the road meandering from one edge of the woods to the other. His privacy was one of the few reasons he was thankful for the villagersâ fear of monsters in the forest.
He stared at the sea of color spread out in front of him. Most of the flowers werenât dangerous in any way, yet the villagers feared them because of their beauty. His mother had begun the garden when she first came to live in the Demon Woods. She claimed that ancient fears and ignorant superstitions would drive those who live outside the forest to destroy all things beautiful.
Calest walked through his garden to the very edge of the clearing. He knelt in front of the wooden cross heâd placed to mark his motherâs grave. He cleaned some weeds out of the middle of the white and yellow flowers heâd planted there on the day he buried her.
âHello Mother,â he said softly. He smiled as a gentle breeze teased his hair. âItâs been an interesting day.â
He proceeded to recount all the events of his day as the sun set and night slowly invaded his yard. He wasnât afraid of the darkness, and shadows held no monsters for him. When he finally finished telling his mother what heâd done, he leaned over and kissed the cross before he climbed to his feet.
It was time for him to make dinner and settle in front of the fire for the rest of the night. Heâd done all his chores earlier in the day before setting off to spy on the village. Calest had set a stew to cooking and it should have been ready by now.
Calest entered his cabin, shutting the door behind him before lighting the lantern hanging just inside. He checked on his supper, and dished it out on the one plate he had. Sitting at the table, he ate quickly, dunking his bread in the broth to get the last drops. Heâd discovered he enjoyed cooking during his motherâs last days, when she hadnât been strong enough to make anything for them.
After washing his dish and setting the stew back over the coals to keep warm for the morning, Calest settled in the chair closest to the hearth and pulled out one of his tattered books. He only had four books, and had read them all over the years. He had no way of getting more, so he treated them like they were treasures, even though the pages were falling out and the covers had ripped apart years earlier.
 An hour later, Calest sighed and gave up on reading. He shut his book and set it aside, slouching in his chair to stare at the glowing embers in the fireplace. His mind hadnât stopped thinking about Sean and how the man had felt in his arms. Calest hadnât allowed himself to dwell on it while taking care of the drugged villager.
Now he had nothing to focus on, and his mind remembered every single touch and brush of skin and hair. He relived how intriguing Sean smelled like newly cut wood and freshly turned earth. Somehow heâd known Sean would fit well in his embrace, though Calest wished the man had been awake, so he could have looked into Seanâs eyes.
He shook his head, and snorted. If Seanâs eyes had been open, all Calest would have seen in them was fear. His mother had explained why the people of Anleou were scared of beautiful things and people.
Every day Calest thanked his mother for having the courage to run away from the village instead of allowing them to end his life. The practice of killing pretty children had come into being shortly after the Demon War, and no one thought of how barbaric it was. Not one mother or father questioned the law, and thousands of children were butchered over the centuries, until all the attractiveness had been bred out of the Anleou people.
His mother had been the first to go against the authorities. When sheâd seen how beautiful her little boy was becoming, she knew his life would end on his fifth birthday. So she ran away into the Demon Woods. The villagers feared the forest more than they did a little boy. They probably believed the woman and her child would die within days of entering the forest.
Somehow his mother had managed to survive and create a life for them both. While it had often been lonely, Calest had come to understand why they remained isolated from the rest of the world.
And until the day he saw Sean, heâd been happy in his solitude.
Wednesday Work in Progress…
Sorry about posting late today. Just couldn’t get motivated this morning. đ But I’m up and I realized I don’t think I shared a snippet of Chasing the King of the Mountain with you. I’m going to remedy that right now. (and if I already shared…here’s an extra peek…lol) This is the second book in the International Men of Sports series…and it’ll be out for general release on July 5th, barring any changes in the schedule. I’ll let you know when you can pre-order and get it pre-release as well.
Chasing the King of the Mountain copyright c. 2013 T.A. Chase & Devon Rhodes
Excerpt:
After his shower, Pascal flopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Every muscle in his body hurt, especially his calf where heâd got cut the deepest during the Tour last year. He was exhausted, yet he needed to keep training because he had a goal to ride in the next one, and at his age, even competing would be a big deal.
Sighing, he pushed back up onto his feet, then padded over to his closet. He dressed before heading out to his kitchen. His place wasnât very big, and that was the way he liked it. He lived in the Dordogne countryside in a century old farmhouse. Renovating and modernising the inside had cost a pretty penny, but it was worth it. He didnât change any of the outside, liking the way it appeared.
There was only one bedroom, which was fine because he rarely had visitors and it had been a long time since heâd had a serious enough relationship that any man would come to live with him.
In the kitchen, he readied his after-workout snack before grabbing his phone. He carried everything out onto the small verandah heâd built off the kitchen. It was a sunny day, and he was going to allow the warmth to soak into his old bones. Once he was settled, he picked up his phone to scroll through his contacts to Laurentâs name.
Pascal rarely watched TV or listened to the radio, and when he was training, he never did. But at the market today, someone had mentioned that Laurent had got engaged to his long-time boyfriend, causing Pascal to realise he hadnât talked to his friend in a few days.
Heâd known Laurent had been heading to Germany to cover the G8 summit, and he hadnât wanted to bother Laurent when he had something that important to do. Plus Pascal had some soul searching to do, and some major decisions to make.
He wasnât sure what Laurent would be doing at that moment, but at least he could leave him a message congratulating him. Pascal tapped on Laurentâs name, then waited for the man to answer.
âBonjour, mon ami,â Laurent answered.
âBonjour, Laurent. Am I calling at a bad time?â Pascal leant back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He stared down at the scars criss-crossing his shins.
âNo. Iâm in a holding pattern until I can get an interview with the American president. So, actually this is the perfect time.â Laurent sounded slightly annoyed.
Pascal grinned, knowing how much Laurent hated waiting around. âCongratulations on your engagement, Laurent. I think you and Jan are perfect for each other.â Not exactly true, but the right thing to say. âHave you chosen a date?â
Laurent snorted. âHe just asked me right before I left for Germany. He wasnât supposed to have announced anything until I got back, but like always, he canât resist the spotlight.â
He did know how Laurentâs partner longed to be in the middle of a whirlwind of cameras and reporters. Pascal had seen the man in several tabloids throughout the years theyâd been dating, yet Laurent rarely appeared with him. There were times when Pascal didnât understand why Laurent stayed with Jan, but at times he saw the love that was there between them, though Pascal had an unhappy feeling there was more on Laurentâs side than Janâs side.
It wasnât his place to say anything, so he kept his mouth shut and supported Laurent when he needed it.
âYes, he does. Still I hope you wouldâve told me when you had a chance to call,â Pascal commented, flexing his feet to stretch his calves.
âYes, I was planning on it, but I just havenât had the time until just now, and I was about to dial your number when my phone rang. Great minds think alike, huh?â Laurent sounded like he was smiling.
âWell, I have a great mind to go along with my amazing body, but Iâm not sure if you do. I think youâre just all fluff and no substance,â he teased.
âAss.â Laurent changed the subject. âHave you been out riding?â
Pascal sighed. âYes, and Iâll be riding in a race in Belgium and the big one in Italy. Iâve been training and itâs harder to recover from the workouts, but Iâm still pulling the time I want, and Iâve been thinkingâŚâ
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Laurent cleared his throat. âWhat have you been thinking about, Pascal?â
âA lot of things. Iâm going to be forty-two this year, and to think about riding the Tour at that age is crazyâŚâ
âAre you thinking of coming back for one more Tour?â
Pascal heard the shock in his friendâs voice, but there was also a hint of excitement in there as well.
âYes. I let my team manager know that Iâll be back for the Tour. I have to join the team in two weeks for my first race of the season.â Pascal rested his elbows in the table, then propped his chin on his hand. âThis is probably going to be the hardest season for me since I started competing.â
Wednesday Work in Progress…
Today I thought I’d give you a sneak peek at one of the many books I’m working on right now. lol. This one is called Always Ready, which happens to be the motto of the Coast Guard. My characters are Chief Petty Officer Dean “Jake” Jacobson and Phil “Rhody” Rhodes. Â As you can tell, Dean is in the Coast Guard. He works as a rescue swimmer stationed at the Kodiak Island base in Alaska. Phil is a Bering Sea crab fisherman.
I’ve been wanting to write a story about a rescue swimmer and a story about a crab fisherman (since one of my favorite shows is Deadliest Catch…which I now get to watch for research purposes…woo-hoo!) Â I thought why not combine the two of them. đ
So here you go:
Always Ready copyright 2013 T.A. Chase
Excerpt:
The din of voices hit Dean like a physical blow as he pulled open the door to Darwinâs Theory, then walked in. He knew Phil would be waiting for him, but in the crowd of people, it was going to be hard to find him. Tonight was their last night together for a good long while.
Dean was a Coast Guard rescue swimmer stationed at Kodiak Base on Kodiak Island, and he had gotten a weekend pass to come to Anchorage. When he found out heâd gotten it, he called Phil to make sure his lover would be able to meet him.
Opilio season was about to open, and Phil had been up in Dutch Harbor, getting the boat he worked on ready for the season. Phil was a third generation crab fisherman, and it wasnât easy for him to get away before a season started.
Yet he was able to do so, and now they had two nights together before Phil goes out on the Bering Sea to fill his quota, and make his money.
Dean jumped when someone pinched his ass. Turning, he hoped it wasnât a woman who did it. He didnât feel like dealing with tears or an indigent female wondering why he didnât find her attractive. Hell, he hadnât found any woman beautiful-except his mother-since he was young. He was gay through and through.
âIâve been sitting here for over an hour, checking out the asses walking in and out of the bar. I have to admit you have go the best behind Iâve seen in a long time.â The voice in his ear caused him to relax, even as he turned.
âDo you also pinch everyoneâs ass?â Dean grinned at Phil, though he kept his voice low to keep anyone from overhearing.
âOnly the good looking ones.â Phil winked, then gestured towards a table further back in the bar.
Dean followed Phil, letting his gaze drift down Philâs back to where the manâs ass was enticingly displayed by a pair of worn thin tight jeans. His lover would never wear those in Dutch or on the boat, but being in the city loosened some constraints for them both.
After flagging down a waitress, he asked for a beer and a shot of whisky. Â She gave him a weary nod before rushing off to fill her orders. Phil took a seat in the corner, and Dean sat as close to him as he could without drawing attention to them. He slid his hand onto Philâs knee under the table.
âHave a good trip in?â Phil inquires before taking a drink of his beer.
Dean nodded. âYeah. LT came in with me to meet up with his girl before she heads out to visit her parents or something like that.â
âCool. I came in on my own. Caught a flight out of Dutch early this morning. Checked in the hotel, then did some shopping for supplies. Season opens next week, and we have to be ready.â Philâs blue eyes danced with desire and happiness.
âI missed you,â Dean softly blurted out, wincing when he heard those words spill out of his mouth.
Phil reached under the table to cover Deanâs hand, then squeezed it. âI missed you too. Itâs been too long.â
It had been two months since theyâd been able to spend time together. Theyâd chatted over Skype, emailed and text every day between opportunities, but it wasnât the same as seeing Phil face-to-face and being able to hold him in his arms.
Wednesday Work in Progress…
I wasn’t sure what to share with you, though I could give you a little glimpse into the story I’m expanding for Total e-Bound, but I might have already posted a snippet before I turned it in the first time.
I think I’m going to give you a peek at the story I’ve been writing out long hand. đ It takes place in the early 1900s at the moment anyway…lol. I might change my mind about that part of it, though it’s a little late for that, considering how much I’ve written so far. So here you go….and I’ve got started typing it in, which is good. đ
Choices Sealed by Fate copyright c. 2013 T.A. Chase
Excerpt-
The shrill scream bounces along the street like a kidâs toy ball, no direction to its pattern. I round the corner in time to see two men struggling while a dame flutters around them like a hummingbird trying to figure out how to sip from their violent encounter.
Before I can intercede, a shot rings out and one man crumbles to the ground. The dame screams again, causing the remaining guy to point his pistol at her.
âHey there,â I shout, not sure why Iâm stepping into a problem that has nothing to do with me.
They both turn to look at me, and since the street lights were behind me, all they see is a very large silhouette of a man who sounds Irish, which in Boston, usually means police.
Iâm not a copper, but hell, if he wants to think I am, Iâm not about to tell him the truth. The man with the gun takes off, and maybe my first instinct shouldâve been to go after him, but Iâm no hero either, and Iâd just gotten done doing a little fighting of my own. Iâm in no mood to chase after a person whoâs all ready shown heâs not afraid to kill a man.
âOh Tommy,â the lady cries, drawing my attention to her once more.
She hovers over the man, reinforcing my image of a bird by fluttering her hands at me. âIs he dead?â
How should I know is what I want to say while staying as far away from them as I could, but what little manners my ma managed to beat into me before she died kicked in.
âIâll check,â I mumble as I shuffle forward, every muscle in my body protesting the postponement of a nice hot soak in my bathtub.
My knees creak as I kneel, then press my fingers to Tommyâs neck like Iâd seen a doctor friend of mine do. He was checking for a pulse, so I figure I should do that.
Considering thereâs a good size hole in the manâs chest and an ever-expanding pool of dark liquid under him, Iâm pretty positive Tommyâs dead.
âI called the cops,â someone yells from one of the windows overlooking the killing spot.
I wave to acknowledge them before standing. âIâm afraid your Tommy has expired, miss.â
âOh,â she wails and sobs into a lace-edged white square fabric. Some kind of dainty handkerchief I image.
Once more I hear Maâs voice berating and guilting me into my next actions. I approach the girl like I would a wild dog. Have to be careful not to frighten her because I donât want her screaming again. My headâs already pounding from the beating I received earlier.
Slowly, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, tugging her against my chest. Sheâs too caught up in her own grief to worry about me, so she curls into my embrace like a kitten seeking shelter.
If Iâm any other kind of guy, Iâd be taking advantage of the opportunity to hold a shapely dame in my arms, but Iâm me, and a dame-shapely or otherwise-doesnât interest me at all.
Of course, most of the girls who hang around in my world are as hard-nosed as the men. They take what they can get by seducing a guy, then cutting him off after bleeding him dry. The girls I deal with are smart women of the world, and they wouldâve picked my pockets clean after two seconds of being this close to me.
âItâs all right, miss. The police are on their way. Theyâll be able to help you.â I pat her shoulder, awkwardly comforting her while trying not to get her clothes dirty.
Iâm not sure how long we stand there in that strange tableau. Me, the big Irish bloke who looked like heâd gone ten rounds with a bear, which is close to the truth. The pretty little dame who shouldâve never stepped foot on this side of Boston. And Tommy, the dead guy, growing deader and colder every second.
But finally the police arrive and relief sweeps over me. No more offering fake comfort to this woman. I can leave and go soak my bruises. My bodyâs tightening up on me, unused to going this long without being pampered after a fight.
âWhat happened here?â The first copper asks as he approaches us.
She quickly transfers her trust to him. âIâm Samantha Smith.â
Immediately, policemen surround her, and Iâm pushed aside, unneeded and not nearly as interesting as the possibility of being smiled upon by one of Bostonâs reigning society princesses.
Someone calls for the chief to be brought down here Smiling, I edge further from the crowd, hoping to make my getaway without anyone being wiser or remembering I exist. I donât want to get mixed up in whatâs looking like a gossipmongerâs dream. I donât want to talk to the police for my own private reasons, and I donât want my name in any paper that might care this murder.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â
Swearing silently, I freeze, then glace over to my right. My gaze meets a pair of big inquisitive brown eyes, and suddenly Iâm aching in an entirely different spot.
Now here is someone I could be bothered with. I donât like dames who are too fragile and curvy. Give me a strong body with angles and muscles, and Iâm a happy man.
I have a couple inches of height on him, being six-one to his five-ten, and Iâm broader everywhere, but something in the set of his chin tells me heâs a scrapper, and can probably handle his own in a fight.
Wednesday Work in Progress…
I’m going to share a scene from a story I’ve been working on for a while. It’s the third story in the Rupert’s Legacy series. From Yesterday tells the story of Phillip and Carlos, two men searching for their way in the world.
From Yesterday copyright c. 2013 T.A. Chase
Excerpt-
Shoring up his emotions, Carlos pulled away and smiled. âYouâre right, hermanito. Iâm just tired. It was a long shift, and I wanted to visit you before I go home.â
âSit.â Miguel motioned to the empty space next to him on the couch.
Carlos flopped onto the cushion with a huge sigh. He let his head drop back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Miguel reached over and squeezed his hand.
âYou work too hard, Carlito. You need to get some rest or youâre going to get sick, and not be able to visit me.â Miguelâs concern showed on his face and in his voice. âYou are my only visitor.â
Pain hit Carlosâs heart and he pressed his hand to his chest. God, knowing that his happy laughing brother was cut off from his family and friends hurt Carlos. Yet it wasnât Miguelâs fault. Being gay wasnât something Miguel chose, and he certainly didnât decide to go out and get AIDS.
The only thing Miguel chose to do was be out and proud of who he really was, and while the consequences werenât what either of them hoped for, it meant Miguel didnât have to hang his head because of hiding. Carlos wished he had his brotherâs strength.
Carlos had known he was gay since he was fifteen, but he still dated girls through high school and college. Oh, heâd gone out and had sex with men as often as he could, but it was a secret and something he didnât talk about with anyone.
The girls were for his father, to convince him his oldest son was a man in every way. He was expected to set an example for his three younger brothers. Yet when Miguel came out, Carlos silently cheered.
âItâs okay. I know why they donât come, and itâs their loss. When Iâm gone, theyâll have to remember how they treated me. And when they get to Heaven, theyâll have to explain to Mama as well.â
Carlos snorted. âYouâre right, and I think that would be the hardest thing to do. Mama always was protective of you.â
âI was her baby. Of course, she loved me.â Miguel leaned slightly into Carlosâs shoulder. âI never told you what she said to me the night she died.â
âNo, you didnât.â Carlos wrapped his arm around Miguel, holding him close.
âYou and Papa had stepped out of the room to talk, and Julio and Paul hadnât gotten there yet. I was sitting beside her bed, holding her hand. I didnât know what to say or do. I mean I was only seven and didnât really understand death all that much.â Miguel plucked at a string hanging from the hem of Carlosâs T-shirt.
âIâm sorry, hermano.â Carlos rubbed his cheek along the top of Miguelâs head. âIt was a hard time for all of us.â
Miguel chuckled softly. âItâs still hard for Papa.â
He nodded. âYouâre right. Heâs never gotten over losing her.â
âAnyway, she looked over at me, and told me to climb on the bed. I did it, though I was afraid of all the tubes and machines. I didnât know if I would hurt her in some way.â Miguel paused and Carlos stayed silent. It was his brotherâs story, so they would take it at his pace.
âI laid next to her, and she put her arm around me. She could only whisper, and I could tell her soul was getting ready to leave. She just had a look about her.â
More silence. Carlos understood what Miguel meant. Heâd seen more than his share of patients die, and they all had a certain look like their souls were ready to go on to whatever waited for them on the other side.
âShe told me she loved me, and it didnât matter to her if I was different from Julio and Paul. I was still her baby. I didnât understand what she meant at the time. She died soon after and all I remembered for months was the sadness.â
Carlos drew a sharp breath. How had his mother known about Miguel and had she known about him as well?
âSomehow Mama knew I was gay, and Iâm pretty sure she knew about you as well, Carlito. When I realized I liked guys, I panicked and freaked out. I knew Papa wouldnât accept me at all, and I risked being banished from the family. Yet Iâd dream of what she told me that night. I knew I couldnât be a coward because she loved me.â
âMama always loved you best,â Carlos teased.
Miguel grunted in agreement. âSure she did, man. Iâm pretty awesome.â
Carlos laughed, but his happiness slowly faded. âIâm sorry I couldnât stand up with you, Miguel. I should be more of a man, and not let you be the only one Papa hates.â
His brother pushed out of his embrace and glared at him. In that moment, Carlos was reminded of his mother. Miguel was the only brother who took after their mother.
âCarlos Mendoza, donât say that. Youâre more of a man than Papa and our brothers ever could hope to be. Just because you havenât told Papa youâre gay doesnât mean youâre a coward.â Miguel put his hand on Carlosâs chest. âIt means youâre smarter than me. I should have waited until I could move out on my own. I knew how he was going to react.â
âWell, Iâve saved up enough money to get my own place. Iâm going to look this weekend when I get off work. I was thinking Iâd try to find someplace closer to here, so I can see you more often.â
âAnd so you can finally get a boyfriend,â Miguel commented with a gleam in his eyes.
âIâm not sure a boyfriend would work for me right now.â Carlos shook his head.
Heâd never had a serious relationship with either sex. All of it was too big a risk when he was younger, and now he worked so much, he didnât have time for anyone except Miguel.
âOh, a boyfriend always works.â Miguel frowned. âIâm worried about you, Carlito. Iâm afraid youâll spend all your energy on me, and will be alone when Iâm gone.â
âI donât spend all my energy on you. I wish I could, but I just donât have the money or the place to take care of you.â Carlos looked around the bright airy room they sat in. âThatâs why I was so happy when a spot opened up for you here. This placeâs got a great reputation, not only among charities, but among the medical field as well.â
Wednesday Works in Progress
This week’s work in progress is titled Sharp Dressed Man. It’s a short story I’m submitting to MLR Press for their Mixed Tape call. Had to pick an 80s song, and use it as inspiration in some way. My story is about two men who were best friends in high school, then reconnect at their twenty-fifth class reunion. What neither one of them knew was that other had always been in love with him.
Sharp Dressed Man copyright c. 2013 T.A. Chase
Excerpt-
âHeâs coming, Daniel.â
Dan held his phone away from his ear as his sister squealed. âWhoâs coming where?â
Sheâd have to forgive him for the question since he was standing in the middle of his flat in London, trying to figure out what he needed to pack and what he could leave behind.
He still didnât have a place to stay in New York, but he wasnât really worried about that. He had a few friends there who would let him crash with them until he found an apartment.
The important thing was he had a job doing what he loved, and he wouldnât have to worry about money. If he was a little lonely? Well, that was his fault. Heâd dated a lot of guys since college, but none of them stuck. Or maybe he should say he didnât stick with any of them.
âJames Stanton is coming to the class reunion.â Sandy squealed again, and Dan imagined her jumping up and down like sheâd done when they were kids.
He chuckled. âWhy are you so excited? From what Mom told me, Jimâs gay. Youâre definitely not his type.â
âTrue, but Iâm sure you are, and this would be so romantic. High school best friends meet up later in life, and realize theyâve always been in love with each other. They fall in love again, and live happily ever after.â She sighed.
âMy dear Sandy, youâve been reading too many romance novels again. Life doesnât happen like that. For all I know, Jim might have a boyfriend or a partner heâs bringing to the reunion. Or maybe he likes big hairy guys wearing leather.â
âUgh!â
He burst out laughing. âI know. Thatâs a rather disturbing thought, isnât it?â
âYeah. Mostly I just donât want to think of James like that.â
âAs gay?â Dan spun around in a circle, searching for the one box he knew was going with him. It held all his memories from high school, and he suddenly had the urge to pull them out to look through.
âOh no. To be honest, I wasnât surprised when either of you came out. No, I donât want to think about James with a leather daddy.â
To be honest, Dan didnât want to think of Jim having a leather daddy or a partner either. He wanted to believe that Jim had waited years for Dan to get his head out of his ass, and come looking for him. Of course, he knew better, but still he could dream.
âAnd you canât tell me you want to think James might have a partner,â Sandy called him out on that.
He sighed. âIâm trying not to think about it, Sandy. I canât wait to see him again, but what if heâs forgotten about me? What if he left Michigan, and pushed me to the back of his mind as just a fond memory of high school?â
After admitting his worse fear to his sister, Dan sat on the floor of his empty flat and frowned. âIâm pathetic, arenât I?â
âOh honey, no you arenât,â Sandy reassured him. âYouâre a hopeless romantic just like me, and you canât help hoping that the man youâve always loved will love you. You know what? Iâll bet you your entire Fall line, that when you meet up with James at the reunion, youâll find out heâs been thinking about you since high school.â
Dan thought about it for a second. âAll right. And if Jim treats me the same as he did back in high school, or acts like he barely remembers me, I win, and youâll be giving me Apollo for a year.â
âApollo?â Sandy sounded like she wasnât sure about the bet. âHow do you know the place you get in New York will let you keep a tortoise? And why would you want Apollo anyway?â
âBecause he was mine until I went to college. I want him back.â
Sandy hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, then finally agreed. âAll right. We have a bet, and I canât wait to be the only person in Freeland wearing haute couture designed by her famous brother.â
âYouâre an evil woman.â Dan laughed.
âNo. Just sure that Iâll win. I donât know if Momâs ever told you, but Jamesâ mother always asks about you.â
âThat doesnât prove anything except that Mrs. Stanton is a nice person. We donât know if Jim ever asks about me.â Dan wasnât hinting for disagreement or anything. He simply pointed out the truth.
âBut he does. Mrs. Stanton told Mom that James asks about you every time they talk, which is why she asks Mom whenever they see each other.â
He could tell she was grinning. He spotted the box with his memorabilia, and reached out to grab it. After tugging it to him, he opened it and grinned when he saw his ZZ Top albums on the top of the pile.
âThat doesnât mean he wants to date me or anything like that. Hell, I donât know. I thought it was a good idea to go to the reunion, but maybe itâs not. Maybe I should just chalk it all up to a high school, and move on.â
âDonât you dare do that, Daniel Allen Perkins. Donât you run away from this. It might be turn out the way youâre imagining, or maybe-just maybe-youâll get the best surprise ever,â Sandy ordered him.
Closing his eyes, Dan touched the album and took a deep breath. As odd as it sounded, he took courage from it, since it was at a ZZ Top concert where he first realized he loved his best friend, then spend all of senior year trying to make sure Jim didnât know about it. He hadnât been worried about being gay or anyone else finding out he was gay.
All he worried about was that Jim would find out about him loving him, and not reciprocating. Danâs fear was losing Jim as a friend, and yet after graduated, he still did. They went their separate ways, and Dan hadnât seen Jim in twenty-five years.
It was strange that theyâd never been home at the same time, but from the moment Dan got out to California, he immersed himself into college and the fashion world, knowing what he wanted to do from the beginning.
Over the years, heâd heard about Jim thru his mom talking to Jimâs mother. He knew Jim was successful at his accounting job, and that didnât shock him because Jim always liked numbers. The one thing he listened the hardest for was when his mother talked about Jimâs boyfriends, and hid a burst of relief each time she said that heâd broken up with one.
Wednesday Work in Progress…
Better late than never…lol
Okay so my snippet for today’s WIP comes from Pray for the Thunder. It’s a short story I’m sending to MLR Press when it’s finished. It’s for their Mixed Tape sub call. đ It’s about two men who were best friends in high school. They drifted apart after graduation, then twenty-five years later, they meet up at their class reunion. đ
Pray for the Thunder copyright c. 2013
Excerpt-
His phone rang, he grabbed it then checked the id screen. âHey Andrea, what do you need?â
Danny winced as his assistant started screaming in his ear. What is it with women screaming in my ear? âAndrea, take a deep breath, and repeat what you just shouted.â
âThat red silk you ordered from Singapore hasnât arrived yet, and we need to get the clientâs dress for the BAFTAs.â
He could hear the panic in her voice, and he shook his head. âAndrea, what did I tell you?â
âNot to freak out,â she said.
âRight. The silk will be here in the next day or two. We already have the measurements and the patterns set. As soon as the silk gets here, we can knock that dress out within a day. We still have three weeks before the awards ceremony, and sheâs not even in town yet.â Danny tried to soothe Andreaâs fear. âHave we ever missed a deadline?â
âNo, but thereâs always a first time for it.â Andrea took a breath, and Danny interrupted.
âThis wonât be that time, honey. I talked to our supplier, and he told me the fabric shipped out last Tuesday. It takes a week to get to us, so we should be getting it tomorrow or Thursday.â Danny lay back on the floor to stare up at the ceiling. âI will work day and night until the dress is finished, though you know sheâd look beautiful in a gunny sack.â
Andrea snorted. âMaybe we could start a new fad.â
Danny laughed. âOnly if we get to dress her all the time because sheâs the only one in the world who could make a sack look good.â
 âTrue, and her husband. We could make a gunny sack tuxedo for him.â Andrea sounded like she was starting to calm down slightly.
âI donât make menâs clothes, though,â Danny pointed out.
âNot that youâre not doing enough all ready, but maybe you should think about looking into designing a new line. There are a lot of guys out there who would kill to have you dress them.â Andrea paused for a second, then continued, âDidnât last yearâs Oscar winner practically beg you to design a suit for this yearâs ceremony?â
âYes, but I told him I like to undress men, not dress them.â
Andrea gasped. âYouâre didnât tell him that?â
Danny rolled his eyes. âOf course I did, Andrea. Itâs not like itâs a big secret or anything.â
âI know, but still to just blurt it out like that? How did you know he wouldnât beat you up or something?â
âSeriously? Heâs not going to risk his reputation as a good guy by beating the snot out of me. Anyway he laughed at me, then said if I ever decide to go into menâs clothing, heâd be the first one to endorse it. Also, heâd be willing to walk the runway for me.â
âThen why donât you do it?â
Danny shrugged, even though she couldnât see him. âI just havenât gotten inspired by any guy Iâve met yet.â
âI understand.â Andrea changed the subject, and they talked about other designs for another hour before hanging up.
After that, Danny packed a couple more boxes while listening to GNR, whose record Appetite for Destruction had been the soundtrack for his entire junior and senior year. His favorite song, Sweet Child Oâ Mine, was the one song heâd listen to over and over again because it took him back to the most important moment in his life. The instant when he looked over at Jimmy, his best friend, and realized he was in love with him.
Heâd never thought about being gay or liking men. It wasnât anything anyone talked about, aside from teasing and joking about being someone being a fag. Suddenly to have a light blub go off in his head about why he hadnât been attracted to girls before was like getting hit by lightning. It had thrown him for a loop, though he tried to act like there wasnât anything different going on. As far as he knew, Jimmy never figured it out.
 Danny headed to bed, knowing heâd probably dream about Jimmy that night like heâd had for most of the twenty-five years since they said good-bye.
Wednesday Work in Progress..
Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to add anything to my current Work in Progress…the last bit added was the scene I shared with you last Thursday. đ But I’m hoping to change that today…after I get the first set of edits done for Home Sweet Home, and the next installment for the blog story done. Then I’ll start working on The Occasional Prostitute. Yay!
Stealing Life final edits were done last night, and turned into my editor, so those will be finalized. It’ll be a while before it’s up on the coming soon page because it doesn’t come out for general release until July. đ But as soon as it’s up, I’ll let you know. To be honest, nothing’s been added to the story, and some scenes have been deleted, simply because they didn’t really further the story.
Oh, and I’ll be dipping my feet back into the M/F waters again. That’s where I started my publishing career, then I discovered M/M books, and at the time, I found them far  more interesting. But now, I want to branch out and start writing both. My M/F will be under a different pen name, so when you see TA Chase, you’ll always know it’ll be guys touching guys. đ
I’ll reveal my M/F pen name when the contracts for my series are signed and it’s all official. For those of you who still read M/F stories.
I hope you all have a great Wednesday, and I promise to have something new to share with you next week. Oh and I have a new cover to share with you on Friday.
Wednesday Work in Progress…
I know it’s Thursday, but everything got pushed back a day..lol. Plus I didn’t have a chance to write the next installment last night. So I decided to give you a sneak peek at my story for the 2013 GRL anthology. This anthology is going to be a little different from last year’s but I think you’re all going to enjoy it.
Also, I’ll have a new cover to reveal to you on Monday. đ Can’t wait to see what you all think. This is the last bit I wrote yesterday.
Here’s the excerpt:
The Occasional Prostitute copyright c. 2013 T.A. Chase
âHa. Thought youâd like him. Young and hot, but a good guy as well.â
âDoes he have to be a good guy? Canât he be just a good fuck?â He sent the message, then looked up to see Gib shooing the last stragglers out of the bar. Gib caught him looking, and waved.
âGood one, Masters. I wouldâve sent you to a different guy if I thought you just wanted a fuck.â
Was he that easy to read? He didnât like anonymous sex much any more. Maybe it was because he was forty, and was feeling his age. âIâm not looking for anything serious, Chen.â
âKeep telling yourself that. Have a good time. Call you later in the week to see how youâre doing.â
He knew he wouldnât be getting anything else from Chen. Theyâve been friends since college, and theyâd chased bed partners together, yet it was more than that. Theyâd both come from privileged backgrounds, but didnât want to follow in their fathersâ footsteps. Chen had become one of the worldâs most sought after neurosurgeons. Heâd made a fortune in his job, but he also travelled the world, performing pro-bono surgeries for charities and poverty-stricken countries. Chenâs father had wanted him to be a corporate lawyer.
Edwin turned his back on his fatherâs well thought out plan for his only sonâs political career. He had no interest in following in his fatherâs career. No, Edwin wanted excitement and the pursuit of truth. He became a journalist to try and keep governments honest. It didnât always work, but he did his best while dodging bullets and being taken hostage. His father kept trying to get him involved in his campaigns, and other people Edwin Masters Sr supported. He managed to stay away from picking anyone. As a reporter, he had to remain neutral, much to his fatherâs disappointment.
He didnât understand Chenâs last text. Keep telling himself that he wasnât looking for anything serious? But he wasnât. Mostly because he was in Atlanta for two weeks, then he was off to some other war-torn countries. He didnât want to leave someone behind who would hurt if he died.
And he didnât want his life restricted by having someone else dependent on him. Edwin enjoyed flying around the world, reporting from exotic places. He returned to the States to remind himself that there were modern conveniences out there, then he got a new assignment and headed out again.
Having a relationship would put a damper on those adventures, and Edwin didnât think he was ready to stop taking them.
âAre you ready?â
Glancing up, he saw Gib standing a few feet away, holding a bag. Edwin tucked his phone away, then stood.
âYes, I am.â
âSorry about making you wait and all, but having an honest job sucks.â Gib laughed as he led the way to the elevator.
Edwin let his gaze drop to study Gibâs ass, flexing under the tight fabric of Gibâs black pants. His hands itched to grab a handful of that bubble butt, but he kept himself under control. Being an adult, he could control himself until they got to his room.
Once they were alone in the elevator, Gib turned to look at him. Edwin watched as Gib stepped closer and closer until his chest pressed against Edwinâs. He didnât think Gib was trying to intimidate him, and if he was, it wouldnât have worked. Some of the most powerful men in the world had tried to do that, and while Gib was drop-dead gorgeous, he really wasnât as scary as a crazy dictator with several armed bodyguards.
âDo you like to kiss?â
Gibâs question caught him off guard. âDo I like to kiss?â
Gib nodded. âSome of my clients donât like to kiss. Iâm okay with that, though I love to kiss.â
Edwin didnât respond with words. He encircled Gibâs waist with his arm, then pulled him as close as they could get with their clothes still on. After burying his hand in Gibâs curls, he tilted Gibâs head for a better angle, then brought their lips together.
Gasping, Gib melted into Edwinâs embrace, seemingly willing to give himself over to Edwin. He nibbled on Gibâs bottom lip, trying to persuade him to open. He leant forward, bending Gib over his arm, and forcing Gib to grab a hold of Edwinâs shoulders to keep his balance.
When Gib moaned, Edwin swept his tongue in, tasting Gib for the first time. He mustâve had a drink at some point before he came to get Edwin, since he found a hint of hops in Gibâs mouth as he duelled with and sucked on Gibâs tongue.



